The Christmas Train (11 page)

“I don't know, Joelle. Show up with her in tow? Don't you think I should tell them first? Soften the shock a little?” Then, “No, I haven't called my sister yet.”

That was interesting, Anna decided. He'd told his girlfriend about her before he told his family. Either he was more afraid of his family than he was of her, or else he wanted to show her how important she was to him. Anna wished she could hear Joelle's reaction to the surprise presence of a daughter in her boyfriend's life.

“She's still asleep,” Anna's father said. “I've got this old woman here, too. She was traveling with Anna. I'm worried that she has Alzheimer's, though, because she thinks I'm her brother, Karl. First thing this morning I've got to find the real brother, or else locate her son, who's apparently a soldier. One of them has to come get her before I can go anywhere.”

When he suddenly came into view, pacing across the living room, Anna drew back. “I know she's not my responsibility.” She watched him thrust one hand through his hair. “But Anna is.”

Anna leaned forward again when he moved out of sight. Was he going to tell the girlfriend what she had threatened to do last night if he didn't let Miss Eva come with them?

“Let's just say she's a very persuasive kid.”

She heard the water running in the kitchen sink, muffling his voice. But Anna had heard enough to feel reassured, at least a little. He planned to own up to his whole family about her. That was good. And it sounded like he intended to help out Miss Eva. Not that he
wanted
to help her out. But at least he was sticking to the promise he'd made last night.

Relieved, Anna got up and headed for the bathroom. She hadn't really looked too hard at it last night. Now, though, she noticed two toothbrushes. And when she peeked inside the medicine cabinet she spied two kinds of deodorant and two hairbrushes—one of them pink—plus a little travel-size hair spray.

Joelle must stay over a lot. That meant he really liked her.

She stared at her sleepy face in the mirror, at her mussed-up hair and bleary eyes. What if Joelle didn't like
her
? What if he was planning to marry her and she didn't want somebody else's ten-year-old kid interfering in her marriage?

Frowning, Anna turned away from the mirror. It was all so mixed up. And sad. Why did people have to die? Good people, like Nana Rose? It messed up everything.

She barged out of the bathroom, angry at the world, only to find him in the hall, peering inside the bedroom. Startled, he shook his head at her. “Shh.” He peeked inside the room again. “Don't disturb her. Come on.” He waved her toward the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch. Anna stared through the picture window at the silhouetted trees, their branches laden with snow. She felt just like those trees, bent over from the weight of her problems.

“So,” he began. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you hungry?”

She shook her head, determined to make this hard for him.

“Okay, then. Coffee? No, you're too young for coffee.”

“No, I'm not.” Anna shot him an exasperated look. “Nana Rose gave me milk coffee every single day of my life.”

“All right.” He pushed himself upright. “Milk coffee it is. Sugar?”

She gave one curt nod. So much for being difficult. While he took care of the coffee, she picked at the pink polish flaking on her thumbnail. In the morning light she could see that his apartment was really nice. The television was giant size, the couch was leather, and two really cool-looking guitars hung on the wall. His car was really cool, too.

He probably had a lot more money than Nana Rose ever had. But his milk coffee wasn't as good as hers, she decided after the first sip. It wasn't bad; it just wasn't as good.

“So here's my plan,” he said. He sat on a big ottoman facing her. “We need to figure out if this Karl guy actually exists. If not, we have to find Miss Eva's son. He's the one who needs to figure out what's best for his mother, not us.”

Panic bubbled up in her chest. “But she can stay with me . . . with
us
until then. Right?”

He hesitated, then nodded, but reluctantly. “She can stay for a while, Anna. But not forever.” His eyes were steady on her. “Anyway, after that, we—I mean
I
—need to go see my folks. My girlfriend, Joelle, will stay with you until I get back.”

It made sense. But something contrary in her didn't like his plan to tell his parents about her first, before they actually met her.

“Why can't I go with you to meet my grandparents? You think they're going to hate me, don't you?”

“No. No, they're not going to hate you.” He shifted on the ottoman. “The thing is . . . they
are
going to be shocked. And probably mad. But not at you.”

She didn't want to be fair with him or admit that he could be right about anything, but it was hard. “So you mean they'll be mad at
you
.”

“Right.” He knotted his hands together. “They'll be mad at me.”

“For lying to them. A lie of omission is as bad as any other lie,” she added. “That's what Nana Rose told me.”

“And she was right. They'll be pretty mad at me for never telling them about you.”

“And disappointed, too.”

His jaw twitched. She was probably making him mad. But so what?

Only he wasn't mad. Instead he gave her a half grin. “First Joelle, now you. Women sure know how to make a guy feel even worse than he already does.”

Somehow that made Anna a little less angry with him. Maybe this Joelle was on
her
side. “Is she nice? Joelle?”

“Yeah, she is. She's great. You'll like her, Anna, don't worry about that.”

“Maybe. But will she like me?” she added in a lower voice.

Before he could answer, a loud crash startled them both. It came from the bedroom. And when a cry of pain followed, they both jumped up and ran for the room.

Tom got there first. When Anna reached the room he was kneeling over Miss Eva, who lay on the floor.

She was moaning, which was good because that meant she was still alive, not dead like Nana Rose. But it sounded like she was in a lot of pain.

“Miss Eva, be still.” Her father bent over her, his hands on her arms. “Give me a pillow,” he said to Anna, sounding all calm, like this was no big deal. But it felt like a big deal to Anna. She could hardly breathe, she was so scared. “Anna. The pillow.”

Scrambling over the bed, she thrust a pillow at him, then knelt on all fours at the edge of the mattress, staring down at Miss Eva. She lay halfway on her side, her eyes closed. But she wasn't bleeding or anything. Her face was creased in pain, though.

“Karl,” she cried in a broken voice. “Karl!”

“We gotta find her brother,” Anna said, her voice shaking. “Maybe he's in the phone book.”

Her father ignored her. “Eva? Eva,” he repeated as he eased the pillow between Miss Eva's back and the side of the bed. “Tell me where you hurt.”

“Karl?” Miss Eva's eyes blinked then slowly focused on Tom. “Oh, Karl.” That's when she began to cry. Only they weren't tears of pain, Anna knew. Miss Eva was crying for happiness because she still thought Tom was her brother.

“Yes, Eva,” he answered, so gently Anna knew he understood Miss Eva, too. “Yes, you're here and you're safe. Only tell me if you hurt yourself when you fell.”

“Mein
Karl
.
Mein Brüder.”
Then she closed her eyes and smiled, even as the tears leaked from beneath her lashes.

“Shouldn't we put her back in bed?” Anna whispered. “We can't leave her on the floor.”

“I don't know.” Tom looked up at Anna. “If she hurt her back or broke her hip or something else, we shouldn't try to move her. We better call 911.”

T
HE
paramedics were nice and very gentle with Miss Eva. After her father explained about Miss Eva, about how come she was at his house and how she thought he was her brother from a long time ago, the lady paramedic looked through Miss Eva's purse and suitcase.

“You said she has a son?” the woman asked Anna.

“Uh-huh. His name is Paulie. Paul Jr. I guess. Miss Eva said he's in the Air Force.”

“Probably overseas,” she said, thumbing through a bunch of cards from Miss Eva's wallet. “Aha.” She pulled out one of the cards. “An emergency health card with all her medicines and doctors listed, and an emergency contact number for a Major Paul Stephens.”

“That's it. Paul. That's Miss Eva's son. Are you gonna call him?”

“Someone at the hospital will. Thanks for your help, sweetie. I can tell you really like Miss Eva.”

Anna nodded. “I like her a lot, even though I haven't known her very long.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “She reminds me of my Nana Rose.”

“Do you want to tell her good-bye before we take her to the hospital?”

“Can't we come, too?”

“That's up to your dad.”

A quick glance at her father, and Anna knew he didn't want to go to the hospital. But when she asked him, adding, “Please, please, please. Just for a little while. So she won't be scared,” he only hesitated a moment before agreeing.

“Get dressed and, um . . . brush your teeth first. Yeah. Then we can go.”

Once the paramedics had Miss Eva up on the stretcher, all covered up against the cold, Anna edged up beside her. “Don't worry, Miss Eva. You'll be okay.”

Only Anna wasn't so sure about that. Because when Miss Eva looked at her, and even when she smiled and murmured, “
Schöne Mädchen.
Such a pretty girl,” Anna could tell Miss Eva didn't remember her. She'd forgotten her and their long train trip together.

But when her father came up behind her and put one hand on Anna's shoulder, and the other over Miss Eva's hand, Miss Eva's pale, lined face lit up with recognition and joy. “Karl. Oh, Karl. You are home at last. Is so good. Is so good.”

Across the stretcher the lady paramedic smiled in understanding. “Don't worry. The social worker at the hospital will find her son. And if this Karl is still around, she'll find him, too. You did good looking out for her. Especially you, sweetie.” She winked at Anna. Then they were gone.

After all the hubbub, the apartment felt horribly quiet. So much had happened and it was barely light outside. Eight twenty-three the clock on the microwave said. By the time they were both dressed and on the way to the hospital, it was barely nine.

“Do you think the real Karl lives here?” Anna finally asked the question circling in her mind.

“Karl? I doubt it.” Her father glanced over at her. “There was no Karl Hess listed in the phone book. From what you told me about your conversations with her, I'm thinking he passed away, maybe a long time ago, like in the war.”

Anna fiddled with the ends of her knitted scarf, lining the fringed ends up, then reversing and lining them up again. “What if her son, you know, what if he isn't real either?”

“He was listed in Miss Eva's wallet. They'll find him, sweetheart. Don't worry about that.”

Sweetheart.

Anna's hands stilled on her scarf. She didn't think she was ready to have him call her sweetheart, or honey, or my little pumpkin, like Nana Rose always did. Or even button, which her mother occasionally did when she was in a good mood.

“Just 'cause you say not to worry, that doesn't mean I can stop worrying just like that.” She snapped her finger at him.

She could tell he was looking over at her, but she refused to meet his gaze, until finally he had to look back at the road to keep driving.

“No. I suppose not,” he murmured.

In the emergency room one of the nurses let them sit with Miss Eva in a little curtained-off room. But Miss Eva was asleep and didn't know they were there. They'd put some tubes under her nose, for oxygen, her father explained. Anna could tell he didn't want to be there. He'd already called his girlfriend and filled her in. Now he sat there, staring mostly at Anna. Every time she caught him he gave her a little smile then looked away.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“A little.”

“There's a cafeteria at the front of the hospital.”

“Can't we eat in here?”

“I don't know.” Then, “Tell me, Anna. What grade are you in?”

“I'm in fifth. But I'm in the accelerated group.” She gave him a quick sideways look. “I get very good grades. Straight A's except for a B in history. And that's only because Mr. Middleton didn't give us good review notes.”

“Wow. Straight A's.”

“Except for a B in history.”

“Right. I guess you're nervous about changing schools.”

Again she glanced at him then away. Once more she lined up the edges of her scarf, flipping them back and forth. “I'm nervous about . . . about everything.” Finally she looked straight at him. “Am I gonna live with you in your apartment?”

“Of course you are.”

Tom answered his daughter's question with far more confidence than he felt. How was he going to pull this off, fixing up a bedroom for her, finding her a school? And what about after school? And on holidays? And then the whole summer break?

He could feel himself starting to sweat, especially when he saw a glint of moisture in her eyes. If she started crying again, he didn't know what he would do. She blinked real fast, though, and the glint went away. But that only pointed out another huge problem. If push came to shove, he could take care of all the logistical things. The real problem was that he didn't have a clue about little girls and their emotional needs. How was he supposed to understand what Anna needed and then figure out how to provide it?